


Loveless Legend

by impwrite



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, F/M, Happy Valentines Day!, Heartbreak, Is this even angst, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Multi, Or Has It?, i actually dont know my perception of time has been dead for days, i actually dont know my perception of time has been dead for months, is it march 13th? maybe., just answering the question im sure we've all asked: is legend an incel?, the answer is kinda! :), this was supposed to be quick like barely any editing but then it took me 2 weeks to finish so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impwrite/pseuds/impwrite
Summary: He remembers because he has to. No matters how angry it makes him, no matter how bitter he gets—he'll remember.
Relationships: Legend (Linked Universe)/Marin (Legend of Zelda), Link/Marin (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Loveless Legend

Just the thought was it was worthy of a bitter, sour grimace. Grossly deplorable, he described it. As filthy as the dirt under his boot, he wished he could stomp the concept to a pulp and wipe it off on a mat.

The mere mention of it made him want to act like a beast damned by the gods. He wanted to snarl and go rabid, tear it apart as if it were a being and not but an idea. Turn it into a literal bleeding heart.

_Despicable. Love? It deserved to be loathed._

It took audacity, sheer amounts of utter gall to even present the notion of it to him. Something so sickly sweet ought to make a person retch.

It's never even enough for him to bake in his thoughts. He _sizzles_ in them. Had he not known better, he'd swear he could burn someone on his flame. It's simply that putrid.

He absolutely despises those nights where they're all gathered around by the fire and they practically sing the damn opera about their loved ones.

Feather-boy gushes and swoons over his Zelda. _His sun._ He regales them all with cute little tales of the lovey-dovey things they do for each other and sugary sweet stories that just tell how gruesomely head over heels he is for but a person. The damn fool is so open with it, the absolute worst out of them all. He can almost see the cupid's arrow sticking out of him.

He wants to bite that god awful captain knight, the one who gains lover after lover after lover and shares no ailment about writing a novel about each one. They notice the man in taverns and inns and he consistently has to duck and hide to spare himself from getting in their line of sight. He contemplates how this man has still managed to cling onto this narrative of love and adoration, seeing as he's constantly wrapped in this cycle of broken relationships, resentful men and women alike always hounding his tail. Perhaps he's just jealous that knight still has the hope to cling to it. Perhaps that knight is just too stupid for his own good.

He doesn't even resist his scoff when the ranch-hand's eyes turn thoughtful and his voice leaks into sorrow. The rancher will speak of broken mirrors and lost love and he'll never understand why the guy just doesn't give up, get over it, _stop crying about it._ The ache in the guy's heart is nearly tangible, and he wanted to snap it in half just so he would shut up.

The old man chuckles and laughs whenever he has to resist a gag.

_To be young and in love._

That's what that old man always says. Goddesses, how he **hates** it when he says that.

He hates when feather-boy and his Not-Quite-Yet-A-Princess giggle and hold hands and practically _spit his face_ while they do it. He hates having to watch the captain's drink for him as he throws on a pretty smile for the next person who's caught his attention from across the bar, making him want to _smash the glass_ with his own bare hands. He hates when the rancher smiles so fondly at that other country girl as they tend to Epona, and he can see his heart start to heal and the sight just makes him so _disgustingly bitter._

Cursed be the Gods above, he hates watching the champion and his princess flush whenever they accidentally brush hands as they walk. He hates when that tiny little mouse of a hero and that aimless traveler crack stupid idiotic jokes in an effort to make their own princesses smile. He hates when the little sailor and that pirate girl poke and tease each other and it makes him wish he was thirteen again and _sweet_ and _young_ and _naive_ and _**he just absolutely fucking hates-**_

…..

He just hates. That's all he does.

…..

He remembers when the old man led them through the woods, saying he recognized the trees there.

He remembers when he led them down the path to that ranch of his, and she was out standing by the entrance. She had been waiting, like she had known he was coming back.

He knew the old man was married, they all knew that. He remembers the bile spite he tasted in his mouth when the captain pointed out the old man's ring. If the wrath in his eyes bore any real heat, the metal would've melted clean off his finger.

The couple had shared a kiss, and if he had been focusing on that, he would have been downright appalled. Though, he wasn't. That wasn't what had caught his eye.

He remembers her hair was red. Not much of an unusual trait, no. That much he'll admit. Though for him, it pierces some twisted form of pain and anger into his heart.

Dare he ever confess— _envy._

He remembers when they were set out to work around the ranch, they could all hear her singing through an open window. Soothing and melodic, just like her own comforting presence. Even the horses in the pasture seemed to be captivated by the song.

He nearly wanted to growl. He wished he could slam the window shut and never hear it again.

Shortly before their arrival to the ranch, he and the captain had made a bet on who the old man's wife would be. The captain had approached him about it while he was raking up leaves. He hadn't been lying when he told the captain that he thought the old man had good taste.

That admittance didn't make him any less bitter about it though. It seemed as if that old man got his own storybook ending.

So, where was his? 

Was this some sort of punishment?

He remembers that he once had a dream of his own. Can't forget her even if he tried, and now the memories plague him as if he were a rabbit doomed to try and flee from a hawk. How fitting.

He remembers her always. It's his own secret, locked up tight and never to be revealed if he can help it, but hardly a day goes by when he doesn't think of her, or that island.

In the cherry red color of tropical flowers.

In the squawk and distant streamline of a gull.

In the dreadful deep blue of the sea.

In the soft melancholic tune of the wind and the breeze.

All of it serves to remind him of her. His Marin, who he learned that he never truly knew.

He remembers her, even as resentful as it makes him. He swore to it on his heart, just because she asked.

He remembers because he promised her to not forget. It's a promise that he's not going to break.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I accidentally write Warriors has someone who's desperate for adoration? Maybe! But it still works, he's a fuckboy and we know this. Now, it's time for me to not write anything for the rest of year. Goodday, sir.
> 
> All comments are seen and definitely appreciated, even if I don't get the chance to reply!
> 
> Also I wrote this instead of practicing dialogue like I should be doing, good on me. :ok_hand:
> 
> EDIT: okay it's been several months since I posted this but it has suddenly occurred to that ilia's hair is not white.... it is blonde.... im just dumb and always described it as white sorry if that caused any confusion me me stupid 


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